


all three of us

by cabbagesandkings



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, Polyamory, happy poly pile of fluff, mindelkaffel, this was just called "lol" in my drafts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8381131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabbagesandkings/pseuds/cabbagesandkings
Summary: it's small, doug thinks. definitely just small.(spoilers: it's not.)





	

It starts small.

It starts with Minkowski brushing against him in the kitchen, standing just a little too close and making an offhanded comment about how if he’s going to be at their apartment all the time he might as well own up to it and start doing the dishes, for Christ’s sake. It starts with Dominik running his hand down Doug’s arm to catch his attention, with the way they look at each other when they think he’s not looking, and with the way they look at each other when they know he is.

Doug probably spends too much time at their place. He knows that, but it’s less quiet here than it is at his apartment. At this point, he’s not really sure what’s home anymore-- certainly not his quiet apartment, cleaned only every so often at Minkowski’s prodding, but certainly not Dominik and Renėe’s cozy apartment across town. He doesn’t belong there. Maybe home is 7.8 light years away, he thinks, sinking into the corner of the couch that’s been shaped over time to fit his back perfectly. Maybe it’s not.

They’re watching a movie-- or they were, Doug supposes. He’s still watching, really, trying to focus on one of the eight or so Marvel movies they’d missed during their Space Disaster Field Trip-- and he’s definitely not watching the couple who definitely aren’t making out on the other side of the couch. Doug shifts a little, shivers, ignores the way Minkowski clutches to Dominik's bicep, and focuses on Iron Man.

He likes Iron Man. He really does. Robert Downey Jr. has always been a favorite of his, and frankly being able to fly like that would be so cool, even cooler than Minkowski’s jetpack--

And then someone goes and makes a noise, low and throaty and absolutely sinful. It’s the kind of noise that should be banned from all public spaces, honestly, and to hear it come from his commander’s throat? It simply won’t do.

Doug wants to hear that noise again. He wants to know how to make her make that sound, what exactly he needs to do to make Dominik run his hands through her hair like that. He wants--

No. He wants to sit here and watch the damn movie.

But then-- Minkowski’s eyes flutter open, and she catches Doug’s eye from over Dominik's shoulder. She starts to stammer out an apology, “Doug”s and “We were just”s falling short as her breath hitches when Dominik nuzzles against her neck just so. Frankly, that’s about the end of Douglas Eiffel right there. It’s a small change, the smallest, but fuck it. He’s only got one chance, right?

Slowly, not breaking eye contact with Minkowski, Doug slides further down the couch, toward the still oblivious Dominik, and places a hand on his back. Dominik freezes, glances up-- and then it all goes to hell. It’s a blur. All Doug knows is that Minkowski’s lips are soft, so damn soft, and Dominik's hands are everywhere and he doesn’t quite know how this started but it’s small, still so small, and maybe it doesn’t have to end just yet.

They fall into bed like it’s not a big deal. Doug thinks that to an outside observer, maybe it isn’t a big deal-- the way these three have been dancing around each other for months, maybe it even looks inevitable. Doug knows better. As he traces his hands down Dominik's back, pushes Minkowski’s shirt up to her ribs, he knows that this isn’t small anymore. This is big, this is the one big time that he’s going to be able to do this, and he needs to do it before they realize that this is all a mistake.

So he leans back, tries to breathe, shakes just a bit under Dominik's lips and Minkowski’s hands, and lets himself fall apart. Just this once.

This is small.

When he next opens his eyes the sky is hazy and the Minkowski-Koudelkas are fast asleep on the bed next to him. They’re tangled up in each other, with the sheets tangled up in their legs and one of Minkowski’s hands tangled up in Doug’s shirt, which has somehow made it to the far side of Dominik's sleeping body. They look peaceful, in a cliche sort of way. They’re happy. They haven’t yet realized what a horrible mistake they’ve made.

Doug sighs, checks the clock. It’s before four-- he has a solid two hours before Minkowski’s alarm goes off and everything goes to shit. So he sets about gently disentangling his wrinkled tank top from Minkowski’s fingers, slipping back into his clothes, slipping out of the room, and slipping out of their lives.

He makes sure to grab his toothbrush from the guest bathroom on the way out, and he goes home, for the first time in a while. When he gets there, he closes the door, locks it, and collapses on the couch in front of the TV. He doesn’t know quite how long he’s there-- long enough to go through eight packs of microwave popcorn, order three pizzas, and really need to brush his teeth about twice. He’s not there long enough to the point where he really needs a shower-- and he’s not there long enough to fall back into the bottle, either. Two or three days, then, probably. That’s about how long it normally goes.

His ninth bowl of popcorn is interrupted, pretty damn rudely, by a knock at the door. Doug hasn’t ordered pizza yet today, so there really shouldn’t be anyone out there-- maybe it’s the mailman, or someone delivering a package to the wrong address. Whoever it is doesn’t need to come in, so Doug just shakes his head and turns up the volume on the sitcom rerun he’s not paying attention to.

There’s another knock two minutes later, and a decidedly angrier one three minutes after that, coupled with irritated-sounding voices in the hallway. Doug ignores them. He’s got everything he needs in here, thank you very much.

It seems like whoever’s out there won’t take that as an answer, though, because suddenly the door bursts open, the lock having popped off when someone tried to put a boot through it. Doug knows that boot. He knows that boot and the leg attached to it, and goddamnit why has Minkowski come back here? Is she going to yell at him? Tell him that he’s ruined her life? To hell with that. He knows it already.

But still, she’s broken into his goddamn apartment.

“What the fuck?” he asks, waiting to be interrupted by yelling and cursing and Minkowski asking him to get out of her life already.

There’s nothing, though. There’s nothing but the door swinging on its hinges and Minkowski breathing hard and someone cracking a joke on the television. She looks at him-- looks around, scanning for broken glass or empty bottles or the reek of booze on his breath-- and, finding nothing, she collapses onto the couch next to him.

Well. That wasn’t what Doug was expecting. And he’s expecting it even less when she reaches out for the hand that’s still hovering over the popcorn bowl and twines her fingers into his. She holds his hand tightly-- probably too tightly, Doug thinks as he feels the rigid lines of her bones pressing into his. She holds his hand like she somehow thinks there’s a chance in the world that Doug’s going to let go.

Minkowski’s small hand feels huge in his as a laugh track plays in the background. He doesn’t look at her, and she won’t stop looking at him. In his effort to not make eye contact with Minkowski, though, Doug sees Dominik carefully walk into the room, stepping around the pizza boxes and popcorn crumbs. Dominik, of course, only has eyes for Minkowski, and Doug doesn’t blame him. The happy couple, as always.

Doug’s chin is glued to his chest at this point. All he can see-- all he wants to see-- is his own lap, complete with bowl of popcorn. That’s why it’s so surprising when the couch to his left sinks down and he feels the warm, too-familiar presence of Dominik Koudelka leaning against his side.

Even without looking up, Doug can feel the pity on Dominik's face as he reaches over to Doug’s lap to move the bowl of popcorn and grab the TV remote. The laugh track shuts off in the middle of someone’s aggressive guffaw, changing the light in the room from the artificial glow of television to the soft glow of sunset through the windows.

Dominik's still leaning close at his side. Renėe is still holding his hand.

Doug needs to know exactly what the fuck is going on here, and he needs to know it now. He takes a breath, sinks his chin even further into his chest, and says, “You can leave, you know. I don’t need your pity.”

He holds his breath. They’re going to get up and leave, walk right out of his life. He probably deserves it, after he ruined theirs. And sure enough, Dominik's body shifts as he leans away from Doug-- but instead of getting up, he starts to laugh. Not outright laughing, mind you, just-- maybe you could call it a soft chuckle. Something small.

Doug should be mad. Angry. Fucking furious, really.

He can’t be mad.

Instead, he just looks at Dominik, trying to ask him fifteen thousand questions but only succeeding in starting to cry, just a little bit. The soft laughter stops immediately and is replaced by a gentle hand on his cheek, pulling Doug’s head up to look at Dominik.

“Doug,” he says, voice unbearably kind and hand too warm on Doug’s face. “We’re here because we were worried about you.”

Minkowski mumbles something that sounds like “you’re an idiot,” but Doug isn’t paying enough attention to quite figure it out. He blinks up into Dominik's gentle expression then whips his head around to blink at Minkowski. She makes the face that means “I know you didn’t hear what I just said, so I’ll say it again, but this is the last time, damnit,” and says, “We missed you, Eiff-- Doug.”

“You-- what?”

Doug is overwhelmed. He doesn’t know which one of them to look at, whether to focus on Minkowski’s steady hand in his or Dominik's warm chest pressed up against his back, doesn’t know whether to run away or to softly, slowly, begin to hope.

Dominik's is saying something. Something like “We have something to tell you, Doug,” and then he’s talking about-- feelings? About his and Minkowski’s relationship, about their friendship with Doug, about how it’s always been more than that, really.

And then Minkowski starts to talk as Dominik gently slides his hand over their joined ones in Doug’s lap. It’s all Doug can focus on, even though Minkowski is saying implausible things like “ever since we were on the Hephaestus” and “it happened a few times, but you would always leave too quickly for me to tell you--” and even though he’s never heard the commander speak so freely about her feelings, Doug can’t tear his gaze and his focus and his whole self away from their three hands joined. They fit together so well.

Minkowski is still talking when Doug kisses her. It’s not like the last time, not like any of the times before that-- he’s timid, he’s almost a little scared. It’s small.

He pulls back immediately, sputtering apologies and ready to run away again, run as far as he needs to. He’s in the middle of calling himself a fucking dumbass when she rests her free hand in his hair and kisses him again, fiercely this time, like they’ve both forgotten how to breathe and this is the only way to get air. Maybe it is, Doug thinks. He wouldn’t mind.

Minkowski makes that noise again, the one that just shouldn’t be allowed, and Doug is nearly lost. He’d be entirely lost if he wasn’t suddenly aware of someone else’s breath against the back of his neck-- and he jerks away, whirling to face Dominik, face red as can be.

It all spills out of his mouth-- “oh, God, I’m so sorry” and “she’s your wife, are you sure--?” all blending into one mess that’s stopped by Dominik's hand on his shoulder.

“Look at me,” Dominik says, and Doug does, and all of a sudden Dominik's kissing him and, frankly?

Doug’s in heaven.

It’s there, on that couch, with the TV turned off and Dominik's mouth on his neck and Minkowski’s hand tight in his and the sense that this isn’t wrong, that nothing is ruined, that Doug realizes.

This isn’t small.

It’s everything.

**Author's Note:**

> well, that was a ride. come find me on tumblr @pryce-and-carter if you want to scream about these space nerds


End file.
